Toothache
by SaphireInTheSky
Summary: Teasing Porthos is NEVER a good idea. But, playing the part of the impulsive fool, Aramis decides to find this lesson out the hard way -and ends up suffering from a 'playful' injury. The result of which he chooses to hide from his brothers. This was perhaps one of the dumbest decisions the medic had made in some time. *Hilarity and h/c will ensue ;)*
1. If or Rather

**So I wrote a lot of this plot line a few months back between the hours of 12-3am. I was aiming to sleep but funny ideas kept piling in my head! I tried to mentally list/store them all in my head overnight but **_**eventually **_**there was just too many...so, I started writing -and I couldn****'****t stop! XD **

**Anyways, enough of my rambling, I hope you like this looong first chapter! -This is just the tip of the ice berg!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

The rain was pelting down heavily on the rooftops of Paris, the thick spread landing of raindrops creating a din that left much to be desired for the townspeople below.

Other than the noise, the shared animosity was mostly towards the deep swirling piles of mud that the storm was producing -and mud meant intolerable difficulties with travel and the ensuing frustration.

Such difficulties also lead to _moodiness _-a particular trait of which seemed to be strongly attached to that of a certain musketeer, one by the name of Athos.

But as luck would have it, Athos' current mood was in fact far from sour on this 'un-fine' evening -for although the man was just beginning to meet the bottom half of his cups, it was the cheery mood of his brothers, the warmth of a fireplace and many free beverages that kept his mind off the gloomy atmosphere of the storm outside.

His family was present, the drinks were on the house -why, he couldn't quite remember- but he wasn't going to argue. Athos simply couldn't ask for more. Why would he be moody?

Just then a sodden trio arrived, bursting through the tavern door noisily to trail muddy boot prints across the wooden beams and over to the warmth of the crackling fire -throwing off their caked, grubby garments and shaking their hear about like wet dogs.

Athos rolled his eyes lazily and smirked, taking his boots off the nearby chair as he patiently waited for them to realize their brother was present in the room.

To Athos' count it took D'artagnan all of two seconds before he slapped Aramis arm and gestured over to his table. Three, white toothy grins pierced through the warm glow of the firelight as they chuckled at the state of the eldest and trundled over -content to leave their garments drying out elsewhere as they took to their new task of getting drunk with their friend.

"Pleasant weather we're having" Athos mused in a level tone, D'artagnan plopping down heavily at his right and snatching at one of the bottles as Aramis took his left and Porthos sat across.

"Oh, just lovely" Porthos replied, voice dripping with good natured sarcasm, "You should go check it out for yourself! Wouldn't want to miss the beauty of Pairs in the rain" he added, swiping up a cup offered from the 'whelp' and downing it in one.

Athos promptly shook his head, "Sorry, brother, but I must politely decline…I doubt I'd be able to 'appreciate its beauty' at present as I can hardly see past these three blurred fools -let alone walk" he finished, wittily, his smart mouth coming out to play.

"I believe he just insulted us" Aramis pointed out, elbowing Porthos and eyeing D'artagnan before frowning back at Athos in mock offence.

"An accurate observation" Athos teased, taking another long swig of his wine and smiling over his cup.

D'artagnan raised a curious eyebrow, "Uh, exactly how many of those have you had, Athos?" he asked honestly, doing a rough count of the two empty bottles on the table and the third which was now half drained.

His brother sure could hold his liquor -though D'artagnan wasn't sure he should be impressed by that.

"Not enough" Athos retorted as he protectively shifted the bottle away from the youngest, "I can barely taste the stuff"

D'artagnan rolled his eyes and gave in, choosing to down his second cup before Athos could think to take that back too.

Chuckling at his brothers antics, Aramis allowed a slight lull of silence to smooth over the atmosphere before a grin spread across his features and he began to slowly but surely steer the addled conversation towards one of his favourite drinking games.

Of course, Athos had seen it coming from a mile off, for Aramis' habits were to be expected by now.

Porthos had melons, he had wine, D'artagnan had his love of horses and lust for adventure and, well, Aramis had his _games_…and women.

And so the 'What if' game began.

Athos made sure to lean back into his cups as his brothers' teasing heightened and threats were alluded to once every few sentences.

Wisely, D'artagnan chose to taper off with his insults too when Porthos threatened his 'perfect, shiny hair' with melon juice and manure.

Athos smiled and offered the lad a cup who received it hastily. From here it was just a matter of watching the spectacle before them unfold. Athos could tell this was going to end nowhere good, but he was much too relaxed and nonchalant at this point to do much about it.

_Aramis had asked for it -and frankly, Porthos should know better._

"What if I shaved your beard off while you were sleeping?" Aramis teased; the idea striking his fancy as he saw Porthos rubbing his beard affectionately -searching for a good comeback.

For a brief moment, Porthos looked terrified by the possible threat, but it wasn't long before his wide eyes turned to slits and he was grinning back at his brother evilly.

"Wha' if I held you down a shaved your head -while you're awake? Porthos threatened.

Aramis leaned back instinctively and clapped his hat over his head protectively, "Touché" he added with a gulp. _No one was touching a single hair on his head, not if he could help it._

"What if I made you breakfast tomorrow?" Aramis offered in peace, leaning forward in a friendly manner and giving an honest smile.

But Porthos shook his head and wrinkled his nose in distaste, "Wha' if I told you, you couldn't cook a decent meal to save your life" Porthos retorted.

Aramis mocked an expression of hurt and settled back in his chair -taking a sip of wine as he laid off his brother for a moment and rested his mind on pleasanter things -like a full head of hair.

He dearly hoped these trading barbs wouldn't become his reality come morning.

Three glasses of wine later, however, Aramis' bravery had returned and his tongue became as sharp as ever.

"What if I decided to poison you for being rude?" Aramis dared, toothy grin back with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "Nothing too strong of course" he added with a wink.

"What if I find a frying pan to fit your face?" Porthos grunted seriously, eyes unwavering on that of his friend.

Undeterred by the promising threat, Aramis boldly surged forwards with a random confession that he knew would rile his brother up.

"What if I told you I borrowed you shirt?" Aramis questioned vaguely, smirk becoming the corner of his lips.

"What if I told you, you better not have" Porthos growled, expression turning darker every second. _He only had a few shirts, and he loved them all equally._

"What if I gave you a new one for compensation?" Aramis gestured to his purse, smile wilting slightly at the murderous looks he was now receiving and coming to the conclusion that perhaps it hadn't been the brightest idea to provoke Porthos.

Aramis caught Athos smirking and shot him a glare. The man appeared to be totally un-phased but when it landed on a giggling D'artagnan the boy was quick to seal his lips and avert his eyes.

"What if I told you I don't care, I want my _own _shirt back" Porthos complained.

"What if I told you …I may have accidentally forgot it at Madame LaRues?" Aramis admitted rather than questioned -backing up as Porthos tried to swat at him angrily.

D'artagnan smiled at the duo, happy for the entertainment but quick to think up a way to defuse the escalating situation.

Placing another free bottle in front of Porthos, D'artagnan stepped into the fray and offered up a distraction, "This is getting mighty old fellas -but I've got a new game we can play!" he added optimistically.

Three sets of eyes turned to his, one pair grateful, while the others seemed slightly miffed at the daunting proposition.

"Do tell" Athos replied sarcastically as he put his boots up onto an idle chair and lounged further back.

_If the others weren__'__t going to volunteer, then the only way to save his own skin would be to volunteer them in his place -and introduce them first._

Not one to waste an opportunity, D'artagnan continued on ahead, "-It's a game of 'Rathers'" D'artagnan began.

"What? Like 'I'd rather I got my shirt back?" Porthos suggested with a scowl to Aramis.

"Oh would you get over it already! Its just one shirt! I'll get you another!" Aramis cut in exhaustedly, "Besides, it was smelling rather unpleasant…you wouldn't want it back."

Determined to stay focused, D'artagnan quickly redirected their attention as he began to ramble loudly over their argument, "You simply ask another person if they would rather do one thing over the other…it can get pretty -dark" he added provocatively, with a knowing glance.

Aramis sighed and relented to the boys' pleas. He would at least be happier to do something else besides trading stupid comments with his brother over flannelled garments.

"Okay, you start" Aramis dictated -more than willing to start now that Porthos was trying to burn holes into the side of his head with his thundering gaze. _He always liked to hold a grudge that one. It was frustrating._

"Um, okay, let me see…..ah!" D'artagnan broke out enthusiastically, "Would you rather: eat a dead rat _or _eat a plate of horse muck?" came the sunny proposition.

Three pairs of alarmed eyes suddenly darted back over to the youngest brother -their disgusted and somewhat accusatory expressions falling flat against the stubbornly innocent looks he was radiating.

"How could you even suggest such a vile act of insanity!?" Aramis replied in horror; shaking his head and biting a knuckle as he tried his best not to visualize the invasive sentence.

"That's just nasty" Porthos added; his face twisting up as if the very thing was wreaking a foul odour right beneath his nose.

Athos' wide eyes slowly returned to their naturally half lidded state and he relaxed back into his chair; smiling at his brothers' discomfort. He had to admit, he had not seen that coming. The boy sure was getting creative these days. Athos supposed that was a good thing on the battlefield.

"Well?" D'artagnan asked, expectantly.

"You cant expect me to answer that!" Aramis choked in disbelief.

"-The rat" Porthos interrupted; an unpleasant -but sure- look on his face.

Aramis whipped his head over, mouth agape at the sudden confession and scrutinized his brothers face for lies or traces that he was joking in some way. He was not.

"What!? You'd rather eat horse muck?" Porthos questioned -trying his best to defend his point with 'valid reasoning.'

If anything, Aramis only seemed to look all the more insulted and he violently shook his head once more in protest.

"Of course not! But you wouldn't find me eating rats either!" he accused, eyeing his three comrades now, hoping at least one of them had sense.

"Desperate times-" Athos murmured over his glass. D'artagnan smiled.

Aramis merely rolled his eyes and let out a sigh of defeat. _They were all idiots. Disgusting idiots._

"Can the rat be cooked and seasoned first?" Aramis ventured tentatively -but D'artagnan shook his head.

"No. You don't get to 'twist it up'" D'artagnan instructed, seriously, arms now crossing firmly over his chest in the perfect image of Athos.

After an indignant huff -and mentally suppressing certain feelings of disgrace with himself- Aramis muttered his resolve. "_Fine_… the rat" he admitted.

D'artagnan beamed as Porthos clapped him on the back cheerily; Athos resigning himself with a sigh as he poured himself yet another 'new' drink. _This was supposed to be entertaining for him -not them._

"I like this game already" Porthos chortled -his confession causing D'artagnan to smile proudly.

"Okay, your turn!" the youngest instructed, nodding over to the brother across from him.

Aramis smiled, suddenly finding new pleasure in the game and took to hard deliberation for a moment.

"Ah! Here we are -would you rather kiss the feet of Rochefort _or _be stripped nude in the centre of Paris?" he quipped evilly.

All around the table, Aramis received disapproving scowls.

"That's not fair!" D'artagnan cried, throwing his arms up in annoyance as Porthos grumbled about the rules.

"You never said I couldn't!" Aramis argued, wagging a finger -the mischievous smile plastered to his face, ruining the stern demeanour entirely.

D'artagnan deflated at this and decided to think of his answer while the others Athos sat back and pretended to think it over.

"Can I kiss these boots _after _I've stolen them from his sleeping quarters?" Porthos twisted, creatively.

An look of shocked disbelief took to Aramis' features as the levity of his brothers words found meaning in his addled brain and lead him to scowl at his brother disapprovingly.

"What!? You never said they had to be on his feet!" Porthos combated, arms raised in defence -a slight smile to his lips.

Aramis shook his head adamantly, "No! That's not fair!" he screeched, his futile protests becoming drowned out by Porthos' booming laugh.

D'artagnan grinned as he witnessed Aramis getting a taste of his own medicine, he loved playing these kinds of mind games.

"I must say, the image of Rochefort walking barefoot all day, down these filthy streets in search of stolen boots, is a fairly attractive notion" Athos slurred in amusement, nodding his head in approval -and furthering the annoyed look on Aramis face.

Aramis sighed, "I give up!" he muttered, hands falling into his lap, "I guess I'm just too good at this" he bragged cheekily.

Porthos was about to argue the mans' arrogance when D'artagnan interrupted once again, "Well, I guess if Aramis is forfeiting, it's your turn, Porthos!"

The two shared a mischievous smile over Aramis' expression of mild offence and decided to continue on ahead.

The night was getting darker and the rain was hardly letting up. Might as well enjoy themselves here while it lasted.

Porthos thought for a moment, before his eyes lit up "It can be anything, right?"

"Right" D'artagnan nodded. Porthos' smile eerily transformed into a wide grin.

"Would you rather: join me in a fist fight, in the mud of the courtyard -the victor receiving a _shirt__"_Porthos teased; looking pointedly at Aramis, "-_or _would you rather down three egg yokes, right here, right now?" he dared.

"Um, Porthos? I don't think it works quite like that" Aramis stated -light voice betraying his rising nervousness as Porthos continued to grin at him sadistically.

"Yeah… that sounded more like a 'one way' challenge, Porthos -not a question" D'artagnan butt in, thoughtfully.

"Shut it, whelp" Porthos cut off -eyes still locked onto Aramis expectantly.

"An egg yoke?" Aramis questioned, eyes roaming the place for any such eggs.

_There was always to possibility that Serge had some back at the garrison__…__Porthos had never stated __'__whose__'__ eggs. _Aramis gulped.

"Three" Porthos corrected, grin becoming an evil beam of white teeth as he cricked his neck 'encouragingly.'

Briefly thinking about how bad eggs could possibly be for a moment -and imagining their cold sticky slime trailing down the back of his throat, was enough to make Aramis gag.

Smiling, knowingly, at where Aramis mind was at, Porthos crossed his arms and waited patiently for his answer.

"I guess I'd rather kick your butt in the courtyard" Aramis confessed with a sigh -though a slight grin now tugged at the corner of his lips.

Porthos let loose one of his perfectly ruthless smiles and dead eyed stares as he rose alongside his brother and made to follow him out into the rain.

He was going to enjoy his revenge.

* * *

**Hope you liked the humorous banter! I know I enjoyed writing it immensely! As a side note, I **_**do **_**have 2 stories going at the same time now, (couldn****'****t refuse this one any longer) so I hope you can understand what this might mean if I do not update for a few days! But I promise I wont ever leave the waiting gaps too long in between!**

**Aaaanyways, Please leave a review and let me know what you thought! **

**Until next time! :D**


	2. Take the Hi-n-t

**So here****'****s a shorter chapter just to hold you guys over for a little bit while I****'****m forced to write a few essays. Don****'****t you just love homework -.-**

**Anyways, there****'****s both humour and sadness in this chapter, I hope you enjoy it! **

* * *

Taking a deep sigh and shaking his hands out, Aramis stopped just outside of the tavern underneath the small overhand of its roof -still protected from the awful downpour claiming the outdoor courtyard.

As Porthos followed up behind him, he snickered and slapped a hand on Aramis' back -shoving him forwards into the rain suddenly; the victim of which quickly back-pedalled in alarm and practically plastered himself to the wall.

Athos broke out into a small smile at seeing this and made sure there was at least an arms length between Porthos and himself as he stumbled after D'artagnan to stand by the wall by their brothers.

_At least _they _wouldn't__'__t have to get wet._

"Wha? Not afraid of a little water, now are we?" Porthos teased with a chuckle; eyebrows shooting up to mock Aramis' behaviour.

Disguising his moment of weakness with a cough, Aramis pushed back off the wall and absently brushed off his coat, "Of course not! I just-" he spluttered.

"-Don't want to get your beautiful hair wet?" D'artagnan offered -a broad smile on his face as he eyed his brother.

_Sometimes that man was all bark and no bite. Sure, he was an excellent warrior in battle; fearless even, but where mud and rain were involved, Aramis was a sad, scared little kitten. _

Aramis snorted at the barb and tried to brush off his brothers taunting gazes -shaking his head at their 'nonsense' as he began to pace about under the small, overhanging shelter.

Eyeing the mud, dirt and rain once more, Aramis sighed and grudgingly removed the hat from his head -handing it over to Athos for safe keeping.

"Should anything happen to me-" Aramis jested lightly -Athos rolling his eyes at the 'pathetic excuses.'

"Come on you big nancy!" Porthos called over -now already out in the rain, jumping about in the mud with unrestrained excitement and soaked to the bone already. There was a massive grin splayed across his face as if it were his birthday.

Aramis sighed and shook his coat from his shoulders -tossing it towards D'artagnan as he turned -and unwittingly threw it over the boys' head, as if it were a coat rack.

An indignant squawk sounded from behind him but Aramis paid it no attention, instead, stepped out into the rain with a shiver.

"Let's get this over with" he muttered; cricking his neck from side to side and squaring off against his partner as he began to circle him.

_He could always hope that he might win… it was always a possibility. But this was Porthos__…__no one came away from these kinds of fights without some injury or other__…__and he was going to get muddy. Great!_

_It was either take the hint or take the hit…whatever got him out of the rain faster would be nice….as long as his brother minded his face._

Aramis sighed for a third time and put those thoughts aside -eyes screwing up in the downpour as his dark curls began to hang into his eyes and blur his vision.

_On second thought, maybe he should__'__ve kept his hat on__…_

Aramis froze for a second and straightened, "We forgot to announce the rules" he pointed out.

Porthos rolled his eyes and gestured about, "Uh…whoever can hold their opponent down for 10 seconds, wins" he outlined gruffly, beginning to get impatient.

Aramis tried on a fake smile of confidence that he wasn't really feeling. "Easy peasy" came his smug reply.

Porthos merely gave him an eerie grin leading Aramis to hold back another shudder before beginning to circle his brother once more.

Aramis spluttered once more after only a few seconds had passed -swiping at the hair in his eyes and ultimately grinding to a blind halt.

"That's what you get for being stylish" Porthos taunted; chuckling at his brothers' distress as he almost slipped in the mud.

_He certainly didn__'__t look all smart and handsome now that he couldn't see._

"I'll take that as a compliment" Aramis snorted back before suddenly his eyes grew serious and he lunged for his brother without warning.

Bracing himself at the last moment, Porthos just barely managed to maintain his balance as Aramis charged him low and caught him at the waist -shifting his feet in the mud and knocking him back a step.

Leaning down on top of his brothers' back in the forced huddle, Porthos' strong arms found their way under his brothers' chest and he began to pull -lifting the man up off his feet and raising his legs into the air as he straightened back -Aramis' hands still clawing at his torso in a vain attempt to fight back.

It was a precarious position to say the least -one pair of legs rooted to the ground while another flailed up in the air. Their heads level with, well…

"Put me down!" Aramis squeaked in annoyance, muddy boots kicking to and fro desperately -flecking his brother in mud as he did so.

"As you wish!" Porthos replied happily -dropping his brother to the muddy ground, face first.

Spitting out a glob of brown, wet dirt after he'd landed, Aramis snarled and swiped at his muddied front; raising himself first to his knees before hastily pouncing back at Porthos, full force.

Fortunately, for his quick thinking, Aramis managed to sideswipe Porthos' legs out from under him before the big man could react -the final result being a rough slam down to the disgraced dirt- where Aramis quickly pinned his stunned comrade with his own weight.

Buoyed by a new hope, Aramis cheekily pressed and dipped Porthos' tight curls into a particularly large swell of mud under his head -his watery grin turning to an evil beam as he sat overhead and promptly commenced the countdown.

As his brothers' winded lungs struggled for breath under his weight, Aramis took a second to deliver a smug look over to Athos and D'artagnan -the eldest looking mildly surprised while the youngest had his jaw dropped.

Upon realizing he was being stared at, D'artagnan shook himself from his entranced stupor and let out an encouraged whoop, "Way to go, Aramis! I knew you had it in you!"

Aramis beamed back at the boy with a grateful smile. _If he really did win this, he might just have to trade in his 'unofficial' title as medic, for Porthos__'__ unbeaten brawler title._

_Aramis, the romantic hero, now, Aramis the giant slayer! Aramis the unbeatable brawler!…It had a nice ring to it. _Aramis smiled.

Athos gave his arrogant brother a lopsided smile and took a seat against the outer window ledge; eyeing the writhing Porthos still stuck in the mud as Aramis turned back to restrain the ever enraged man.

_He was glad he hadn__'__t bet on Porthos__…__though he would have never expected this, _Athos mused.

_On second thought, neither man was winning, not really -as they__'__d catch cold at this rate. _Athos let out a sigh and took a sip from the cup he had brought with him.

_Looks like he was going to be in it for the long haul -sacrificing his wine for the _sore _loser as the pain numbing drinks worked their magic._

Just coming shy of seven seconds, Aramis found himself abruptly flipped onto the floor as Porthos' flailing arms and bucking torso dislodged his hold and rolled the other over.

Aramis grimaced as the mud lapped up against his face and clotted into his beard.

_Now he knew he was in for a world of pain._

Butting his head back, Aramis caught Porthos in the nose and forced the man backwards; sliding out from under the larger body and clumsily finding his legs -and an unseen rut.

Aramis flew forwards again, arms wind-milling around humorously as he fought to stay upright -Porthos catching him by the collar and yanking him back to send in a solid haymaker.

But the slippery surface of the ground lead Aramis to slip under the fist, and thus, avoid the swing altogether.

Undeterred, Porthos shoved his brother back violently -laughing heartily at Aramis' expression as he landed hard on his rump -and effectively soiled his breeches with the muddy ground.

Furious now, Aramis sprang up and slapped his brother, _hard _-the force of the blow causing his brothers' eyes to sting with tears as his mouth opened and closed like a fish.

It was a low blow -pardon the pun- but Aramis had merely meant it to humiliate his brother_. He should be allowed to slap! It was an effective tool, obviously _Aramis reasoned.

Porthos growled, humour quickly diminishing as a wave of embarrassment and anger washed through his system; another hard right fist seeking out his brothers' face.

As he'd expected, Aramis ducked the blow and aimed to lunge up at his brother who would now be caught open.

Except, Porthos wasn't there.

Instead, he had swivelled around -following through with his fist so that once he'd completed a full turn, Aramis' side would be vulnerable.

Not wanting to waste the moment as Aramis turned to him in surprise, Porthos shot out a lightening fast, hard left hook.

The blow met its intended mark and Aramis' head snapped back forcefully -his eyes rolling even as he began to fall and pitch onto his back limply -landing with a splat in the mud, his head cracking against the ground and bouncing to a stop.

_He had not even bothered to catch himself _Athos noted grimly, already moving quickly towards Aramis' still body; D'artagnan by his side.

It only took seconds for Porthos to deeply regret his actions, his fists loosening as he stared down at his brother; heart seizing in his chest as a grimace overcame his face.

_What had he done!? How could he have let his temper get the better of him!? Against his brother no less!_

Blinking rain out of his eyes, Porthos dropped heavily to his knees and anxiously shuffled over to Aramis side -Athos and D'artagnan mere shadows by his shoulders as they stood over the brawlers, unsure as to what to do next.

Clapping a hand to his cheek -in an attempt to stop Aramis' eyes rolling around in their sockets- Porthos began pleading with his brother, "Aramis! Hey!? Look at me! Aramis, please!…Can you hear me?"

Porthos quickly pulled the upper half of Aramis' limp body from the muddy ground and cradled him into his chest, mud be damned. The fact that his brother was seemingly unaware of the movement, or anything else for that matter, was a deeply disturbing sight.

"I'm so _sorry, _Aramis! I didn't mean this, really, come on buddy, come back to us" Porthos pleaded, shaking his pale, dazed friend more insistently this time while Athos took a knee and D'artagnan looked on in concern.

A frown of annoyance was slowly coming to Athos' face -beyond the concern he was just barely holding back.

_He should have seen this coming! He should have stopped this!_

_Porthos was a big man, bigger than all of them in every sense of the word. He was a warrior, a tough fighter -prized for never losing a fight and for swinging vicious fists. _

_Though they would never admit it, Porthos could easily beat any of the musketeers in hand to hand combat, Aramis included._

_And now, he was paying the price. They were all paying the price by the looks of it._

* * *

**So this was just the beginning of the Aramis whump ;) It will continue with humour next (though the guilt will still be there in the background)****…**** Please leave a review and let me know what you thought of it!**


	3. Phillipe

**Thanks for the AWESOME reviews guys! I'd like to mention I'm truly sorry about the wait!****…****Real life took a chunk out of my ass and I was busy trying to find it again. It took a while, but I got it together **_**eventually. **_**So now I****'****m back! **

**Here****'****s the next chapter! Enjoy!**

Aramis hadn't seen it coming…well, that was kind of a lie. He _had _seen the knuckles coming -up close and personal in his periphery- but he hadn't been able to _do _anything about it, not with such little time.

And so, one minute he was winning, the next minute he was losing. Exactly _when _the dramatic turn of events had been allowed, Aramis had no idea.

Honestly, Aramis didn't seem to be having _any _good ideas lately -especially now that his brain was short circuiting. _Why did this rotten luck always come back to bite him!?_

Looking around blurrily, the poet in Aramis began trying to decipher his surroundings -the pelting of the rain seeming to leech from the canvas of his world, mixing the surrounding colours into one large swirling blob of fuzzy grey shapes.

And to makes matters worse, his hearing was impaired too -sounds now reduced to muffles, as if someone was talking to him with a blanket wrapped around their head while his own ears filled with cotton wool.

Aramis couldn't make any sense of it.

The last thing he could remember was sharing a grin with D'artagnan and slapping Porthos. In the next instant, there had been a blinding pain in his jaw, a tug in his neck and suddenly, he was staring up at the sky -his back soaking into the mud underneath him.

At some point that mud had transformed into a sturdy, warm sack of potatoes but Aramis didn't give it much thought. His tired mind was having enough trouble trying to piece together where he was, how he had ended up like this…_and __why the rain looked so mesmerizingly beautiful._

Aramis' mind began to wander.

Rain fell all around him -transparent pellets of water swirling in the air until they landed on his forehead and cheeks. He could see the underside of a rooftop from here, see the rain dripping off to pool on the ground.

The noises had all strung together now too, those sweet nothings of strange rumbling voices accompanied by the heavy shush of the rain and his own steady heartbeat.

Time was rolling by miraculously slowly.

Suddenly, a dark figure came into his sight; bending in half to peer into his face.

Aramis couldn't make out who it was exactly -but judging by the mop of short, tangled hair, blue piercing flecks and pale features, it must be Athos.

_That man was always sticking his nose in places it didn__'__t belong. _Aramis chuckled absently as he imagined Athos sticking his curious nose in a door and getting it jammed as someone closed it. _That__'__d be a story for the ages._

"_The time that Athos broke his nose in a door hinge__"_Aramis mused on the title, thoughts swirling.

All of a sudden, the deep guttural voice behind him stopped its incessant mumbling. _Had he said that out loud?_

A beat was all it took for the hazy conversation to continue and Aramis relaxed once more.

He was ninety nine percent sure that it was Porthos grumbling to him..._either that or he had a twin...maybe he did, you would never know until Porthos__'__ twin walked up and shook your hand._

From here it was just a matter of Aramis' brain conjuring all sorts of deluded notions as to Porthos' family -the addled marksman beginning to drift off into his own reality, now seriously contemplating the name of Porthos' twin.

_Perhaps the twins' name started with p also? Hmmmm…_

For a moment Aramis was stuck on finding a name while the elusive letter taunted the tip of his tongue, just out of reach.

Alarmed for the health of his memory -and the fact that he could not remember a single name starting with P- Aramis began to squirm about, the firm hands that came to hold him down, agonizing the man even more.

_Did this mean he was losing his memory?! Was he finally getting too old!? What if he couldn't remember his own name next!_

Eyes widening in fright, Aramis grasped at the jacket of the stranger leaning above him,

"Quick! Tell me what names start with p" he asked urgently, desperate for answers.

Blue beads of confusion was Aramis' only response. Perhaps that was due to the fact Aramis hadn't actually spoken in full sentences and instead rested somewhere along the lines of, "wick telma-wht-nams-strt-wih-pay!"

Athos looked to his dazed brother in concern, his eyes conferring with Porthos' to see if the man had any better luck deciphering his brothers' gibberish. The glum shake of his head told him, _no_.

It was then that Aramis raised a trembling hand and coiled it into the leather of Porthos' doublet; fingers tightening in urgency while his brows knitted together and his glazed, brown orbs went slightly cross-eyed.

"Do you think he's got a concussion?" D'artagnan asked over to Athos worriedly, stooping to inspect his brothers' face_. _

_He wasn__'__t used to playing the part of medic. Aramis was the one who did these sort of things -and although D'artagnan had been secretly glad that he hadn__'__t had to involve himself in gory injuries or confusing head wounds, he was regretting not knowing enough to aid his brother when he needed him most._

"I cant be sure… I reckon Porthos knocked him senseless instead" Athos commented, suppressing the urge to look disapprovingly to Porthos. _He could lecture him later._

Instead, Athos took to shaking his head at Aramis as his brother tried to raise himself up -head lolling about futilely on his shoulders.

_It concerned him that the usually chatty musketeer was silent. _Athos could see it bothered his brothers too, Porthos in particular.

The awful sense of guilt was so thick on Porthos by this point, that it was practically dripping from his frame and pooling at his feet. The man couldn't look more sorry if he'd tried.

The fact that he'd _properly _hurt his brothers for once left a sick feeling in his gut. He hadn't meant to do it, not really, but that didn't matter now. The deed was done.

"Come on, we can't stay here" Athos instructed in a low tone, accepting the sad fact that he wasn't going to get anywhere sane with Aramis.

Pushing himself up from his knees and into a stand -his boots cautiously working their way through the mud around Aramis' form- Athos paused by Porthos' shoulder and bent to place his hands against Aramis' shoulder blades, the motion effectively holding his brother in a sitting position while Porthos shimmied out from beneath.

Now on his knees, free from the comforting wall of flesh, Porthos guided Aramis' limp arm over the back of his neck and forced his brothers weight onto his shoulders -then holding out a hand so Athos could pull him up.

Or at least he had tried to pull the duo up. The mud at present was being a rather tricky fellow and so as Athos' wet hand slipped free and flung the aid away, Porthos and Aramis crashed back to the ground.

_It was like watching a demented, newborn foal trying to find its legs _D'artagnan mused. _Clumsy and hilarious…bar the mud which was now splattered everywhere._

"Wanna gimme an 'and?" Porthos growled at the smiling lad.

D'artagnan quickly dropped the smirk from his lips and moved over to Aramis' opposite side -stooping low so he could sling his brothers free arm around own neck, just as Athos began helping Porthos back to his feet.

Thankfully, this time, the 'manoeuvre' worked.

Aramis' knees buckled as soon as he was upright; his head lolling forwards onto his chest to subsequently allow the rain to leak through the gap in his collar and trickle down his spine- a shiver from the 'absent' musketeer being his only response.

Porthos shifted his brothers' limp weight about across his shoulders before looking to Athos, pleadingly, for direction.

Their comrade was now whispering something incoherent and it bothered him greatly. _The sooner they get help, the better._

As the three brothers struggled forwards in the slick mud -their feet became cautious and decisive while their hands tightened around their friend.

They didn't want to slip and land on their fallen brother. There was no telling what kind of trouble it was invoke from the muddled man -let alone the further damage it could do his injuries.

"We can bring him back to my place" Athos offered, squinting through the rain as he lead them on slowly.

_It as hard to maintain their slower pace. His mind was screaming for him to do something more other than wallow in the mud. He wanted, _needed _to get help, fast…but that would be foolish. He would only accomplish breaking his neck and burdening his brothers further if he tried to run._

And so, Athos was limited to this pitifully, lethargic stumble. It was frustrating to say the least.

_The drinks he__'__d consumed previously probably weren__'__t making matters any easier _Athos speculated glumly.

A few seconds passed in silence, the sleet driving down on the musketeers, encouraging to make them all the more miserable.

But then, Aramis' frame tensed in his brothers' arms, his head shooting up to look about wildly with large, glossy eyes, "Phillipe!" he shouted in a slur.

Athos turned back slightly to see to his friend -and almost fell to the ground. The lead the musketeer to swear colourfully and lean a palm against a wall to steady himself -well aware of the light snicker behind his back. _He would not fall dammit._

Porthos looked to Aramis in question, coming to a stop as their rambling friend looked between them expectantly -glazed eyes now wild with enthusiasm.

Aramis couldn't understand why they weren't applauding him on his efforts of retrieving his memory. Personally, he was immensly proud of himself for accomplishing such a feat.

"Philippe?" Porthos asked, tentatively, not sure why Aramis was talking about the town butcher. He shot D'artagnan a questioning glance but his brother merely shrugged.

Aramis' unfocused, brown orbs shone back at Porthos, an eyebrow raised along with a smirk, "Aye, don' think tha' I don' know 'bout 'im" he stated vaguely, his heavily slurred voice only worrying his brothers all the more.

Despite their gloominess, Aramis was on edge with glee. _And why wouldn't he be? He had solved the puzzle! _

_Porthos__'__ twin brother was called Philippe! The fact that Porthos had pretended not to know what he was talking about and deny the statement outright, spoke volumes. _

Aramis would just have to uncover the truth to expose his lies.._. His brothers must know of this! _

He always did like a good challenge.

Porthos looked over to Athos for help -only to see the man gazing intently at the trio; his stiff frame and dark frown telling them of his impatience.

Porthos felt rather than saw D'artagnan hold back a chuckle. Athos looked like a drowned rat. A grumpy, drowned rat.

Turning his mind back to more important matters, Porthos' only logical answer was that Aramis was going bonkers. It was a grim conclusion indeed.

"Know who?" Porthos humoured; shuffling forwards as Athos' flickering gestures and glares demanded they follow. _Best not to keep the man waiting._

"Philippe" Aramis repeated again -this time with a mad grin as his head lolled back and he waggled his eyebrows.

D'artagnan suppressed a snicker. _Now was not the time to laugh__…__but Aramis was so damn funny looking! Especially in this undignified state of his._

Aramis would probably have his head if he knew D'artagnan was laughing at him, but since he'd already lost his own head, the medic would probably just laugh with him.

D'artagnan snickered.

"Wha's so funny?" Porthos demanded seriously, eyes flickering between the guiding form of Athos and his _two _crazy brothers.

"He knooooows" Aramis assumed, craning his neck forth to look into D'artagnans' face; the lopsided grin, wild hair, unfocused, glinting eyes and muddied face putting the youngest close to hysterics.

"Knows what!?" Porthos barked, prodding at his limp noodle of a brother before hoisting him up against his frame with a grunt -now that his brothers' full weight had abruptly been loaded on his shoulders, alone.

This was because D'artagnan had been reduced to a cackling mess -his strength failing the lad as throws of laughter sought to consume him -the crazy expression of his dazed brother burning into the back of his eyelids.

"I'll show ya soon 'nough!" Aramis promised Porthos as they started forwards once more; his dragging heels doing nothing to lessen his weight on his brother, " I'll prove t' you's lot tha' Phillipe can't hide 'ny morrr" Aramis slurred, chin falling to rest against his chest now that his eyes had began to droop.

"I don' understa-" Porthos began.

"Don't bother" Athos advised over the dying down of chuckles, dropping back into pace as the trio made it to his door. "Aramis is -not with us" he speculated, "…besides, he never made much sense when he _was _with us" he jested, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Porthos attempted a smile of sorts but it fell flat -his gut twisting guiltily as he acknowledged that it was _his _fault they couldn't understand Aramis.

Porthos ducked into the dry indoors and shuffled towards the stairs, brothers in tow -his back hunching in both strain and sorrow. _All of this over a lousy shirt._

After awkwardly making it up the stairs with his brother, the men pushed their way into Athos' room and deposited their wet friend on the bed -of whom flopped back limply with a light smile on his dirty face.

"At least someone's happy" Athos comforted, heading over to the window for the bucket hanging outside. _It was no doubt of rain water by now_. _Good, at least they could use it to their advantage and clean Aramis up._

"I'll go fetch the wine" Porthos stated, storming towards the door -a deep frown to his face as anger tried to override his feelings. If he was being honest, the anger was internally directed, not that he needed to tell them that. They knew him well enough already.

"Do you really think he needs wine right now?" D'artagnan asked seriously, he wasn't sure head wounds would do well with wine…_or was it better to dull the pain? _D'artagnan couldn't remember what Aramis had instructed.

"It couldn't hurt" Athos replied simply, leaning back with a grunt as he battled with Aramis boots -of which were practically suctioned onto his feet.

D'artagnan gave his brother a skeptical look but decided to leave it there. _They didn__'__t need any more arguments tonight -and certainly ot after the way the last one had turned out._

He wasn't entirely sure this would be the proper treatment -but since their medic was currently out of commission, he couldn't argue.

"Fair enough" D'artagnan answered, shucking his own wet jacket onto a nearby table and moving to Aramis second boot and yanking it off without any trouble- much to the annoyance of Athos.

Pushing aside his temper, Athos moved over to the top of his bed, D'artagnan following his mentor and copying his actions to arrange their friend comfortably before gently shrugging him out of his wet, muddied garments and beginning the cleansing cycle of scrubbing down a half lucid, giggly Aramis.

It took roughly ten minutes for the two brothers to catch, secure and hold down Aramis' face to remove the thick, slimy layers of mud from his thickly matted hair. From here it was a simpler task of dragging a wet cloth across the thin smudge of mud and dirt on his upper torso -buffing the ticklish medic until his skin was almost gleaming.

Leaning back with a sigh, Athos allowed D'artagnan to take on the trouble of pinning a flailing Aramis under his bed sheets, pinching his nose in annoyance as a rudimentary game of tickling fights sprung up.

Five minutes later and Porthos returned to find Athos lounging in a chair, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose while D'artagnan sat on Aramis bed and giggled madly with the man himself.

Despite his glum mood, Porthos couldn't help but smile at his brothers' antics -especially when Athos let out another annoyed huff and aimed to slap D'artagnan. That was until he noticed his brother had entered with arms full of bottles.

Suddenly, Athos was up and out of his chair, standing beside Porthos eagerly and empting him of his load. If ever there was a time Porthos would have imagined Athos licking his lips comically, it would be now.

Porthos chuckled, "Thirsty are we?" he teased.

Athos rolled his eyes but continued to lay out the bottles among some spare cups he'd found lying around.

_It didn__'__t matter if they were dirty, this strong drink would kill whatever threats that may be lurking within them he reasoned, beginning to pour generous amounts._

_He would need to drink at least one of these before he went back out into that downpour to fetch a physician for Aramis. At present, the man seemed lively enough that there would be no rush._

"Here" Athos informed, handing out the wine -holding Aramis hand around the cup so he could drink it without dropping it.

"Why, thank you, 'thos, you're too kind" Aramis giggled, half of the liquid dribbling down his chin as his thick tongue momentarily revived itself from the strong concoction.

Athos let out a sigh and a tut, moving over to sit on his brothers bed so he could wipe up the mess, "I wouldn't thank me just yet, I'm off to find you a doctor soon" Athos informed.

He mentally slapped his forehead at the slip of words as Aramis tried to squirm out of bed. How could he forget Aramis hated physicians.

"Woah, settle down" D'artagnan soothed, stepping forwards to help Athos press Aramis back into the bed.

" 'm fine" Aramis ground out, happy gaze retreating to be replaced with a moody one.

"No yer not" Porthos broke in, "Else, Philippe wouldn't have 'joined us' tonight" he jested lightly. The joke fell flat and Porthos cast his eyes to the floor.

"-really, 'm fine" Aramis noted seriously, words still slurred but eyes now pleading with a level of recognition shining in them.

_He must be desperate to dredge up his wits _Athos mused. He knew how hard a task it was.

"…jus' need some sleep 's-all…" Aramis trailed off, blinking tired eyes even as the medic in him tried to take over, "…not bleedin'….ain't dying…be f'ne by mornin'" Aramis informed, sagging in the pillows as his strength deserted him.

Porthos gave his brothers a look of concern at Aramis sudden decline in energy -he had been trying to wobble upright for the longest time now… to see him give in now, was unnerving.

Moving forwards as if to help his ailing brother back up, Athos held out a hand, "Just let him sleep, Porthos. We'll deal with him in the morning" the eldest instructed, mind roving over Aramis logic.

_It seemed sound enough__…__physicians could never help with head wounds anyways _-in his opinion, leeching didn't count.

_Perhaps rest would be best__…_

Porthos reluctantly stopped pressing against his brothers' arm and slunk back towards the reserved chair, plopping down in it heavily with another glass of wine in an attempt to bow his dying spirits.

_He didn__'__t deserve the ignorance but he needed some reprieve from the torturous guilt. He could resume it easily enough tomorrow__…__and the day after that__…__and the day after that__…_

Athos shook his head at his brothers, one man down, the other one falling in every sense of the word.

_Hopefully this night would remain peaceful -or as peaceful as it could get._

Athos scooted over to the wall by his bed and sat against the floor, eyes flickering to Aramis, D'artagnan and Porthos over the next hour as the trio slowly drifted off to sleep.

As his own eyes began to close, Athos' mind took to happier thoughts -smiles emitting from his tired face once in a while at the idea of waking to find Aramis back to his normal self and exacting his revenge on a snoring Porthos.

He could only hope.

**Hope you liked it! Please leave a review! :D**


	4. Back to Mischief

**Sorry about the gaps in my stories, got quite a lot of things to contend with right now. But I shall always return! Enjoy this next chapter!**

**-And yes, I **_**am **_**having fun whumping Aramis, gotta have **_**some **_**guilty pleasures ;)**

* * *

By the time the first few rays of dawn spilt through the wooden slats of Athos' shutters, Aramis was already rising from his deep, fist induced slumber.

Sleep filled, crusty brown eyes blinking open slowly, Aramis began the brief, blurry inspection of his current surroundings.

It was not more than half way through his surveillance of the familiar room that Aramis found himself 'rudely interrupted' by a particularly blinding ray of light.

Reeling back in pain and surprise, the musketeer took to his best line of defence -and promptly forced himself back under the safe confines of his protective sheets.

_The light could not follow him under here. He forbid it._

A quiet hiss escaping his lips, Aramis scrunched his eyes tightly together, wriggling deeper into the darkness that was this new, cavernous fortress in an attempt to avoid the light.

It was only when he had managed to pry the pillow out from under his head and hug it to his face that Aramis finally allowed himself to settle down and calm his erratic breathing.

_If he was to survive in this new land, he would need to reserve his oxygen _Aramis reasoned_. There was no way he would venture back up there until he was ready -and therefore, he must use his reserves wisely._

Taking a moment to restore his composure, Aramis slowly became aware of the throbbing twinge of pain emanating in the side of his jaw -the simultaneous pulsing in his head only adding to the lovely sensations spreading throughout his skull to tear a groan from his lips.

Rolling over in a futile attempt to evade and ignore the constant threat of pain and light, Aramis tugged the sheets up about his head and mushed his face into the linens. Perhaps if he pretended he was asleep, they would leave him alone.

All he wanted was the blissful darkness of sleep. _Was that too much to ask?_

Apparently it was, for the continuous throb of his head and the curious beating at the back of his jaw only seemed to fight harder against his pleas until it became virtually impossible to ignore.

_He was probably dealing with a concussion, _Aramis speculated,_ at least that's what these matching symptoms told him from the last one. This one didn't feel as severe. _

_Well, that was good news at least…if you could call it that. _

_Still have to put up with nauseating bouts of dizziness for a while, _Aramis reckoned_, Plus the worst 'migraine-like' hangover he could possibly imagine, but hey, he was alive and kicking! Couldn't ask for more, right?_

Aramis thought about that statement for a second.

_Well, he _could_ ask for more…but that would mean a confession over his health, indefinite bed rest and a check up with that evil, incompetent physician. _

_Looks like pampering would have to wait for a rainy day._

Aramis found himself dragged back to his senses as the pulsing pains in his jaw seemed to throb with more intensity the longer he lay there, just thinking and shooting the breeze.

_It was an insistent little bugger. Keeping him awake. Dammit. Why wasn't he ever allowed a proper rest?_

Flopping back onto his front, Aramis began creating a mental list of all the little ingredients he would need to combine so he could numbly endure this twinge until it decided to give it up. Aramis let out a tired sigh, his head was hurting just thinking about it.

_What a great way to start the day!_

Letting out another low moan, Aramis surrendered himself to the land of the living and removed the suffocating pillow from his face -eyes sliding open cautiously against the painfully bright light to blink furiously across the dim features of the room.

Unfocused eyes finally finding their center points, Aramis' vision slowly cleared to reveal Athos' quarters -of which appeared to be filled with three, familiar occupants; their slumbering forms still lounging at odd angles all over the place.

_His brothers._

A small smile escaped the Aramis' lips as he took in the humorous sight -eyes roaming over Porthos first whom it seemed had collapsed, _from somewhere_, and landed on the floor like a starfish -minus the drool and loud snoring.

Athos faired a might better, having slumped from the wall onto his side, leaving him to lean against his protégé in a somewhat comfortable pose -while the lad in question had his head resting on an upturned chamber pot for a pillow.

_Eugh. _Aramis cringed a moment longer for his brothers' sake before a low chuckle broke out of his chest. _He could use this grossly indecent accident to his advantage, at some point, later on down the road._

Sighing as he brought himself back to the present, Aramis slowly sat up in bed -his stiff joints crackling back into place as he twisted.

Squinting through the painful half light of morning, the battered musketeer gently threw back the covers on his bed and cautiously swung his legs over the edge -making sure to place a hand on either side of him to steady himself.

Taking three deep breaths, Aramis settled his nerves and suddenly sprung himself upright -the sickening sense of vertigo that shook him to the core, sending the musketeer reeling forwards to the nearby cabinet with a crash -last nights wine bottles quickly cascaded down to the floor where they shattered loudly.

The three musketeer who had been previously content to lie in their peaceful world of dreams were abruptly ripped back to the present at the unnervingly loud crash; their eyes wide and expressions full of alarm as they glanced about, ready for anything.

After a quick inspection of their safe surroundings, Athos turned his attention back to a teetering Aramis -his eyes narrowing at the half apologetic smirk he was receiving from his brothers' pale face.

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Athos slowly clambered up to his feet with a slight grunt and paced over to his brother -the accusing frown on his face, contrasting against his gentle, steadying hands that were already reaching out to Aramis' shoulder; prepared to escort the fool back to his bed.

Aramis went with him -somewhat reluctantly.

Wiping a tired hand over his face, D'artagnan let out a tired, much relieved sigh and stumbled to his feet -a hand shooting out to pull Porthos' squirming form onto a more vertical axis.

Nodding his thanks with a humph, Porthos and D'artagnan skirted back over to the bed where Aramis was beginning to protest Athos' minor prods and ministrations.

The two brothers shared a mischievous smile before settling down at the foot of the bed -Aramis shooting them both half-hearted glares when he noticed they were only there to watch his distress rather than help him.

_Not the most pleasant way to wake into the world. One moment, you have the worst hangover ever, the next you__'__re kissing a chest of drawers and Athos__'__ is prodding at you like you have his precious beverages hidden up your sleeves._

"Would you stop it!" Aramis complained angrily, batting the fingers of his comrade away and twisting out of reach, "-I'm going to end up with more bruises than I started out with if you keep jabbing me with your _bony_ fingers"

Athos let out an impatient sigh and hung back, "Aramis, it is important that I glean an updated status on your health. If you are unfit for duty, I cannot clear you" Athos remarked seriously, fingers launching back to their initial processes.

Again, Aramis battered at the fingers and wiggled away on the bed.

He had never claimed to be an obedient patient.

"You will stay still, brother, or I will be forced to use Porthos to my advantage" Athos dared quietly; the cheeky grin not quite hidden on his stoic face. Porthos didn't even give Aramis the benefit of the doubt, sending his brother a promisingly evil beam while his eyes twinkled mischievously.

Looking between them, Aramis let out an irritated moan and flopped his arms back to his sides in defeat, shuffling back within reach of his friend.

"Fine, but _be _gentle" Aramis warned, eyeing Athos with a level stare that bespoke of revenge should he keep prodding in all the wrong places.

Athos bowed his head ever so slightly, "Your well-being is of my utmost concern" came the smooth reply, a slight quirk to the corner of his lips.

Aramis rolled his eyes as D'artagnan patted him affectionately on his arm, "Sooo, how's Phillipe doing this fine morning, Aramis?"

Giving the boy a questioning stare only sought to heighten the small giggles spreading between the two most devious brothers.

_They__'__re all bloody mad._

"What are you talking about?" Aramis inquired suspiciously, eyes turning into slits as he eyed the three, "Who's Phillipe?"

"You tell us" Athos murmured, fingers softly taking hold of his jaw so he could turn his head to the side and check the base of his skull where he'd suffered the second blow.

_It wasn't bleeding...just a big bruise. That was good, right? _Athos continued to probe for answers.

Meanwhile, Aramis ignored the manhandling from his brother -for the time being- and settled his attention back on the intriguing story that was beginning to unfold.

_The name Phillipe _did _sound familiar__…__.where had it cropped up before? Was it last night?... What even happened last night?_

Giving them all blank stare that told of his obvious lack of information, Aramis promptly continued to stare down his fellow man until one of them could hold his gaze no longer, and folded.

"Ah, never mind" Porthos shrugged off, teasingly, "-wha' matters is tha' you're awake!" he replied, a little too gleefully.

But there was guilt behind those eyes. Aramis could see it.

_What was he missing here__…__ something had obviously happened between the two of them. _

Another painful throb from his jaw had Aramis' sluggish mind sparking with new ideas -his eyes widening with a new realization as he looked back over to his brother.

For a second, Porthos had thought that maybe his brother had decided not to kill him_. Thus far he seemed not to have given their little 'tangle' a second thought. That he wouldn't_ be mad at him, like he'd thought.

_It looked like he'd guessed wrong_. Porthos gulped.

"Did -did you hit me!?" Aramis stuttered disbelievingly, a hand to his jaw as he looked over at his wilting brother accusingly. Aramis' glare died down somewhat as Porthos deflated under the gaze, looking down to the floor in shame instead of the challenge he had been anticipating.

_Not exactly the response I was expecting _Aramis mused, rubbing his sore jaw absently in further thought.

_What _had_ happened last night!?_

"Uh -I'm just gonna go get us some breakfast" D'artagnan offered awkwardly, excusing himself from the intimate position in a skittish manner as he paced back out of the room, Athos in tow.

_They needent interrupt such a personal conversation _Athos reasoned. _They could work this out together, in due time._

"Want us to deliver anything special, your majesties?" Athos asked sarcastically, turning back from the door to eye his fellow man.

He was met with two un-amused stares.

"What!? I'm just being considerate" Athos grumbled, sense of humour fading.

_They always teased _him_ endlessly, was it so wrong he do the same? _

Athos grumbled internally as his efforts were shunned; frowning at the duo before promptly turning on his heel.

_They would just have to eat what they were given then _Athos surmised coldly, shutting the door loudly as he moved to stomp back down the stairs after D'artagnan.

_So childish._

* * *

As the door slammed firmly against the wooden frame, Aramis winced slightly, ears ringing.

Porthos took heed of the barely suppressed flinch and instinctively reached out to comfort his brother, patting him on the arm gently while his eyes questioned if there was more he could do to help.

His hand retreated however when Aramis' gaze drifted back to his. He couldn't handle that soulful stare._ It was full of pain and misery. Pain and misery he had caused._

Patiently waiting for his answers, Aramis took to a silent pause by his brothers' side. An unaccusing look of open curiosity now assuming his features.

_Whatever had happened between them, he would forgive it. He had only been mad at first because his body felt like it had been pounded into the ground, it still did. But the hurt on his brothers face stung so much more. He couldn't allow the suffering to continue._

_He would have to proceed delicately from here on. He didn't want his brother scared off or carying a burden._ Aramis simply wanted an explanation for the gap in his memory. _It would be nice to know why his jaw was being such a menace._

A few more unbearable seconds of silence passed for Porthos, until suddenly, the dam in his mind cracked and the large man gave way to a barrage of answers -the first and foremost words tumbling from him mouth, being a wave of sincere apologies.

"I'm really sorry, Aramis. I didn' _mean _to hit ya that hard! Honest! I was jus' tryna get ya back ...an' then ma mind took ova…. an'…well….I jus' sorta clipped ya one…Please don' be mad! I'll make it up to ya! -You can even hit me back if ya like…" Porthos mumbled hastily; his unusually pleading tone and shining eyes chancing numerous worried glances up through his brow to his best friend -a world of hurt swirling behind the sad expression he was barely holding in check.

Aramis let out a tired sigh as a piteous frown overtook his face -arms reaching out to his brothers' shoulders and firmly pressing against the trembling fabric.

A beat passed before Porthos finally dared to catch his brothers eyes -Aramis' calm brown eyes quickly locking his brother into a trance while the soothing pat of his fingers sought to reassure the man that he was thinking this through a little _too_ much.

"As much as I'd like to return the favour, brother... I believe we have a previous engagement to attend to" Aramis jested lightly, squeezing his brothers shoulders with a small smile.

_He could hardly stay mad at his brother with all those woeful stares coming his way, disarming any thoughts of revenge almost instantaneously. The sincerity radiating off his brothers form, with that look of guilt and shame, was too much to look at. It was like staring at D'artagnans' puppy routine._ Aramis let loose a kind, sympathetic smile.

At his brothers seemingly random response, Porthos' brow scrunched into confusion. _He had obviously not been expecting such a carefree attitude as this. Perhaps a blow to the face or a little shouting match but not _this.

"Come again?"

"Breakfast! You wouldn't want them to eat it all, would you?" Aramis taunted, fondly; prying himself from his bed on shaky legs as he looked about for proper clothes.

Not exactly sure how to respond to the unfolding situation, Porthos uneasily walked alongside his wobbling brother.

Not too close and intrusive -but not so far away that he couldnt catch him should he fall.

"You sure you should be up an' walkin' 'bout so soon, 'Mis?…they're bringin' food back 'ere anyways" Porthos mumbled, arm pressing against Aramis back as he stumbled backwards suddenly.

"What? Yes! Of course I can be out of bed. Plenty of air does the dizzy mind some good, don't you know?" Aramis replied seriously, "-A quick trip to the kitchen should clear these cobwebs from my mind!" he added cheerily.

"Er…I guess so" Porthos stammered lowly, head still tilted in confusion as he watched his brother jamming on his boots -on the wrong feet.

"Um, need some 'elp?" Porthos offered tentatively, still wanting to be on the right side of his brothers 'temper.'

Aramis looked to his brother in confusion this time, his eyes flickering back to his boots as Porthos continued to stare at them pointedly.

"Oh..ha ha, silly me" Aramis chuckled, bending back over to step out of the wrong feet and stumble back into the right ones -Porthos steadying arm at the ready.

Straightening out once more, Aramis took a second to determine up from down before grabbing his coat from the bedpost and swiftly pacing towards the door, prepared for this new mission.

"'Mis?" Porthos interrupted quietly, still standing at his friends back.

Pausing in his wake, Aramis turned slowly to face his brother -so as not to lose his balance- settling his brother with a friendly gaze.

"So… you ain't mad?" Porthos asked, eyes darting about a bit as his fingers scrunched tightly into his shirt; brows knitted together in confusion and worry.

_He wasn't sure if he could handle his brothers rejection. Couldn't handle the surprise of being let off easy just so his brother could blow up at him later. That was what this was, right? A lit fuse?_

_Aramis was being far too dismissive for his liking__…__or god forbid, he__'__d actually lost his marbles, and this happy act was because he didn't have his head screwed on straight._

Porthos gulped nervously and stared at his boots.

"No, Porthos. I'm not mad" Aramis assured in a quiet whisper, boots shuffling slowly back over to his brothers' side so he could cup a hand around the back of his friends neck.

"-now, accept it already, before I change my mind" Aramis teased playfully, twinkling eyes meeting his brothers rising gaze to offer another reassuring stare.

All at once, Porthos let out a deep, relieved sigh and wrenched Aramis into a tight hug -his unparalleled strength easily allowing him to lift his smaller friend up off the floor before the squirming and panted curses ordered he be let free.

Dropping him to the floor, gently -as was his wish- Porthos offered his friend a sheepish smile, one without hidden worry this time.

"Sorry…couldn' 'elp ma' self" he responded with a grin.

Aramis rolled his eyes, pretending to be annoyed before turning on his heel and wildly swinging himself about; attempting to head for the door.

Porthos shook his head at his brothers' clumsy determination.

_He never did like bed rest... At least he seemed back to normal for the most part -and Athos couldn__'__t see anything wrong with him. Good._

Heading after his brother -and out of Athos' quarters, Porthos took a second to slam the door shut behind him before stomping after his flimsy brother.

_Someone must be hungry _he mused, picking up the pace to stride evenly with the marksman.

As the two men made for the kitchen, almost hand in hand, Porthos silently thanked his lucky stars that his brother was recovered _and_ in the mind to forgive his ghastly error in judgement.

_This could have all gone so badly wrong. Aramis could have slipped into that infamous, sleep of death from which no one awoke._

_Just as likely, his brother could have held a grudge against his violent act of childishness and resorted to cutting him out of his life until he had earned back the other mans respect._

Though he didn't really believe his brother would stoop to such a level, it had always been a fearsome possibility that Porthos couldn't shake.

So to be able to process the forgiveness he'd been deemed so freely, seemed like a wish come true.

Porthos couldn't be happier, relief washing over his body as his usual grin returned to his typically sunny features.

At his seemingly unprovoked reaction, Porthos caught Aramis giving him a look of suspicion and he snorted out a laugh -draping an arm over his friends' shoulders as they moved in the sweet smelling room.

"Maybe I _did _hit you a little too hard" Porthos teased, cuffing Aramis on the head lightly as he continued with the 'weird' stare.

Aramis winced slightly and gave Porthos a true scowl, "Keep hitting me like that and im going to shove my fist down your throat" Aramis threatened seriously.

Porthos held his arms aloft 'innocently.'

"Woah now! There's no need to get violent, 'Mis!…'sides, I can hardly eat breakfast, if yer blocking ma' mouth" Porthos retorted cheekily.

Aramis narrowed his eyes as he delivered an evil grin, "Exactly."

Porthos pretended to quake in his boots at this latest threat; his usual good natured antics causing his brother to smile along at their fluid banter, just as he'd predicted.

However, unfortunately for Aramis, this inattention to the wooden beam standing in his path proved to be a nasty consequence for their bickering -plus it meant another bruise would be received on his behalf.

Porthos cringed in the split second it took for the ugly event to occur, unable to say or do anything in time, bar witness the somewhat humorous spectacle.

And so, it was just as Aramis turned his head, that his face abruptly met up with a wooden plank. As an 'added bonus,' the marksman had been striding along happily at a brisk pace. _Perhaps not the best idea when you weren't facing forwards._

"Gahhh!" Aramis gronaed, bouncing back from the beam and clutching his nose; a pained, teary glare fixing itself on Porthos in a second flat.

Raising his hands meekly, Porthos took a step back and offered a friendly smile. It wasn't having the desired effect.

Aramis let go of his red nose to prod his brother in the ribs, with what felt to Porthos, like particular sharp set of fingers.

"Ow! Wha' was tha' for!" Porthos complained, clutching at his latest 'injury.'

"I blame _you_ for that" Aramis grunted sullenly, averting his gaze from his brother as he scanned the interior once again -keen eyes finding the amused smiles of Athos and D'artagnan lounging at a small wooden table near the back of the room.

As Aramis marched off once more, Porthos trailed by his shoulder, gesturing frantically behind his back as he battled the 'outrageous insinuation' that his brother could accuse him of such treanous acts.

"You walked into it!" Porthos spluttered, shoving his brother lightly on the arm to force his friend to give him his _full_ attention.

Aramis merely gave him an annoyed side glance. "You distracted me!" he shot back, pitch high with irritation.

Porthos rolled his eyes in exasperation, stopping in his tracks for a moment with his hands raised, "Yeah, sure! Jus' blame it all on me, why don't you.." he grumbled.

Aramis froze at that and wheeled on the spot, delivering his most glowering scowl to his comrade.

"I shall" Aramis growled.

Porthos let out a tired sigh and shook his head; resuming the short trek back behind his brother until they met up with the twinkling eyes of their other brothers.

It was to Aramis' annoyance that he noticed Athos to be smiling in that smug little way he often used. An expression that stated that he _knew_ this brotherly mischief would arise sooner or later.

He hadn't been disappointed.

"Don't you start" Aramis warned, slumping into a seat and lounging back from the table as he eyed D'artagnan just as fiercly.

The youngest musketeer deftly hid his grin in a waiting cup while Athos remained un-phased as ever, still smiling slightly.

"I was merely going to say it was kind of you to join us" Athos drawled smoothly, eyes twinkling in that usually tricky manner.

Aramis rolled his eyes with a snort.

_The only reason Athos could _possibly_ be amused that they had joined his table, was because it meant he would undoubtedly receive the pleasurable entertainment of watching their foolish antics spiral out of control to 'dig each others grave'... Plus there would be un-guarded food at his disposal _Aramis contemplated, knowingly_._

_The man seemed a little too happy about Porthos teasing him. God dammit, what had he done to deserve all this torment!?_

At Aramis' silent fuming, Athos turned his attention back to Serge over by the corner of the room and raised four fingers.

The cook quickly spotted his signal and gave the musketeer a happy nod before rushing back off into the back of the room -where the unprepared food lay in wait_. _

_Breakfast was on its way._

Aramis began to shake his head in irritation at D'artagnans' continued smirking and Athos suaveness -but stopped just as abruptly, when the painful twinge in his head and jaw returned.

_Great! This was just what he needed..._

Stretching his jaw into a supposed yawn, Aramis tested out the limits of his latest injury in a secret manner; his brothers' none the wiser as they looked over to the approaching food.

Any hopes of alleviating the strange, building pressure were dashed when Aramis subtle movements only seemed to make the pain more acute.

Pressing a hand to his jaw to rub small soothing circles under the skin, Aramis suddenly noticed Porthos was watching him curiously.

Determined not to lose face or endure bout of teasing, Aramis levelled his brother with a mock glare, "You still don't hit as hard as Constance" he lied playfully. _Hopefully this would deflect his brothers' suspicions...deflating his ego was just a bonus._

"You would know" Porthos chuckled, clapping his friend on the back playfully before turning his attention back to the newly arrived plate, licking his lips at the heavenly smells rising beneath his nose.

Athos gave a snort at their banter before tucking into his own meal, D'artagnan following suit now that their more comfortable tone of voice had resumed with their usual playfulness.

Aramis just eyed Porthos' retreating hand again and sent him 'the look.'

"Wha'?" Porthos grumbled around a mouth full of sausage; growing impatient with this tiring back-and-forth argument now that his meal was on the line.

"I wasn't kidding you about my threats regarding the abuse, brother" Aramis reminded, eyeing his hand pointedly.

This whole 'slap-Aramis-around-like-a-rag-doll' was getting mighty old, not to mention painful and annoying.

Porthos let loose another deep sigh and shovelled more food into his mouth with an indifferent shrug.

_It would be the one and only reply his friend was going to get._ Aramis took it.

Athos glanced about the quiteness of the table as his brothers began to munch away; pale blue eyes resting a second longer on Aramis as the man took to his drink first rather than the enticing meal.

_Perhaps he wasn__'__t as hungry, _Athos reflected, reasonably_. Whatever the reason, at least he was in the mind to keep up with Porthos. That was always a lot of work -work he would rather not have to deal with._

It seemed like things were returning to normal.

As if to confirm Athos' thoughts, Aramis took to jabbing his fork into a sausage -unfortunately, as was usual for some foods, the fork slipped and merely glanced the meat instead -launching said sausage off the plate to bounce across the table and over the edge of the table.

Porthos let out a hearty laugh as he took in the spectacle, slapping Aramis on the back again -despite the many warnings- as his brother stared after his lost sausage.

Aramis shot Porthos a scathing glare and snatched up one of the large mans' own sausages, whipping it after his own.

Porthos looked first to the flying morsel and then his smugly smiling brother; completely gob smacked for a few seconds before his face grew thunderous.

"Shouldn' a done that, Mis" Porthos growled, beginning to rise from his seat threateningly as his fork clanked back to his plate.

Aramis merely lay back in his chair, a highly satisfied grin on his handsome features, eyes twinkling in mischief.

Athos rolled his eyes.

_It was going to be one of those mornings._

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**Hope you liked the banter! As you know, this is not the end! Still lots more to come! :)**

**Please leave a review! I****'****ll update as soon as I can!**


	5. Breaking Point

**Sorry about the delay****…****.university****…****and life****…****.anyways, I shan****'****t ramble this time, The Musketeers final****é**** has inspired me to write- regardless of my convenience and so, I wrote up a mini chapter just to keep you interested : )**

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**Previously**:

Porthos looked first to the flying morsel and then his smugly smiling brother. Completely gob smacked for a few seconds before his face grew thunderous.

"Shouldn' a done that, Mis" Porthos growled, beginning to rise from his seat threateningly as his fork clanked back to his plate.

Aramis merely lay back in his chair, a highly satisfied grin on his handsome features, eyes twinkling in mischief.

Athos rolled his eyes.

_It was going to be one of those mornings._

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"Shouldn't have done what, brother? Shouldn't have tried to get even with your insidious mind games and constant torment?" Aramis teased, frame completely lax and seemingly uncaring of the dark looming form above him.

"S'not funny, Mis. Ya jus' dipped yer grotty fingers through ma meal and chucked 'alf of it off the table!" Porthos boomed back, face drooping into a menacing scowl as he caught the smirk below him.

"Half of it! Ha! It was a _sausage_!" Aramis shot back smugly, "You've eaten enough of them, anyway, you can afford to lose one!"

Left eye twitching at the snide remark, Porthos leant into Aramis' personal space, almost filling the gap between his brother completely.

"Wha' are you meanin' by _enough_, Mis?" Porthos growled, voice now dangerously low.

Aramis' eyes narrowed minutely -a small, thin smile to his perky lips. He knew what would follow with his coming remark_… but it was simply too tempting to ignore!_

_Besides, the big oaf _did _deserve a knuckle sandwich at some point, why not the next morning?_

"What do I mean? Oh… well, you know, something along the lines of 'too many sausages, too small a shirt'…" Aramis began, smile broadening evilly until suddenly it folded down into a mock frown of consideration.

"-Actually… to _my _recollection, that shirt of _yours _fit me just fine! Perhaps it's just _you _who's changin' shape…" Aramis insinuated darkly.

"…it happens when you get _lazy _and decide to get fat in your spare time…." came the final insult.

Calling a coward was one thing, but calling a warrior a fat slob of a man was a whole other slice of hell -a slice of which Aramis had wisely taken note of, the day Porthos had started a ruckus over the matter.

Sometimes, words hurt more than punches. Aramis could tell just by the stiffness in Porthos' shoulders.

_Maybe next time, the man would think twice about arguing over shirts, punching a friend and slapping him about come the next morning -lest he want this frosty outcome. Either way, the end result would be interesting…_

As the seconds slid on, it became noticeable to all around that there was an intense atmosphere hanging over the room -held mostly by the deafening silence. There was more din of forks, no more scuffling of morning patrons or cheery greetings while all the eyes peered curiously over to the daring duo over by the corner; sausages at feet, hands to fists, smirks to glares.

"Um, Athos?" D'artagnan murmured lowly -his boot finding Athos' leg under the table and giving it a small, unassuming nudge, "D'ya think we should, you know, intervene?"

Casting his eyes ever-so-slowly from the standoff before him, Athos' pale blues drifted to meet the weary eyes of his young friend by his side -only to deliver the usual, flat stare.

_The lad had a lot to learn as far as __'__politics__'__ and __'__standing out of the line of fire,__'__ was concerned._

"I'd rather prefer to keep out of any and all altercations while on a full stomach…" Athos offered casually, eyes flitting back to the tense scene before him, a quirk to his lips, "-_but _please, if you feel you can resolve this 'issue' somehow… then be my guest" he murmured, amusingly.

For once, it was D'artagnan who rolled his eyes in exasperation; the respect for his brothers' beginning to dwindle as the late night headache made itself known.

_Couldn__'__t they all just get along?! For one minute!? _

'_Round two of: Aramis versus Porthos__'__ was hardly a good idea__…__ and the fact that Athos wasn__'__t going to stop them, made him just as guilty!_

_Honestly, it was like working with children sometimes!_

"Ow! Hey! Gerrof!" Aramis suddenly shouted; hands flying to wrap around Porthos' wrists that were now tightly weaving their way into the neck of his coat to yank him up and out of his chair.

"_Apologize_" Porthos growled, seriously -his dark eyes boring into his brothers'.

A short, nauseating moment of silence passed over the room as Aramis eyes' shifted about from side to side under the heated gaze of his brother -the inner turmoil of the situation leaving room for great debate in the marksmans' mind.

Despite the obvious solution to the spectacle, stubbornness won out -_as usual._

"No" Aramis retorted proudly, raising his nose to the air as much as he could in the confined position.

If anything, the room seemed to darken with Porthos' molten gaze.

Eyes widening a fraction of an inch, D'artagnan suddenly shot up from his seat and bounded over a short ways to the unfolding fight.

_He was no longer content as Athos to merely sit and stare. Something must be done!_

"Alright, that's enough!" D'artagnan commanded loudly, shoving his way between the two grown men and roughly forcing them apart -Aramis' quickly rocking back onto his feet as he landed on the floor; one of which he had not known he'd been apart from.

Daring to put as much anger behind his gaze as he could -if only to lend to his low ranking authority- D'artagnan allowed himself first a glare to Aramis, for provoking such an argument and then another over to the Porthos, towering by his shoulder.

"You should _both _know better than to fight after what just happened last night!" he berated, tone as stern as he could manage.

"You'd think 'e'd 'ave some manners after I'd knocked some sense inta' him!" Porthos shot back; side stepping the accusation entirely as he leant around D'artagnans' frame to shoot at withering stare at his comrade -of whom had _kindly _taken to ignoring him once more as he returned to his seat.

Having lost the attention of both of them, D'artagnan chose to pick the lesser of his battles and turn to confront Porthos' head on; a look of animosity spreading across his features as he went.

"Porthos!" D'artagnan grated, a rough hand clapping his brother on the shoulder in an attempt to gain back the attention of his drifting eyes.

He almost wished he hadn't succeeded.

Two brown eyes glared first to the hand on his arm, then back to those of his younger brothers,' a promising threat wreaking from his body.

D'artagnan swiftly dropped his hand from his brothers' arm at the reaction. _Now was not the best time for physical contact -despite the mans__'__ seeming love for it, _he concluded hastily.

Exhaling a deep sigh, D'artagnan looked once to the floor and back up to his moody brother. _He just had to play his cards right__…__ He had to reason with him__…_

Folding his arms across his chest in a perfect 'Athos-imitation,' D'artagnan cocked his head to the side and began on a new track.

"Listen, I get why you're mad, okay? But you can't just start another brawl! …At breakfast! With a 'half sane' man who you only just beat to a pulp the night before!" D'artagnan tried, pleading with big glistening eyes.

No sooner than D'artagnan had finished his tale, a sharp prod made itself known at his back.

"What did you just call me!?" Aramis' angry, high pitched tone interjected.

Closing his tired eyes to Porthos' cheery face, D'artagnan slowly swivelled on the spot, hands raised in a somewhat peace offering.

"I'm just trying to calm everyone down…" D'artagnan soothed, eyes pleading for sense in his other brother. He'd thought they were more sensible than this!

"So by, 'calm everyone down,' you mean, take his side? Is that it?" Aramis pressed angrily, embarrassment flaring in his cheeks as he twisted back up from his chair to place a hand on his hip -the other pressing lightly to his jaw for a split second more before resting against the table top.

_It was beginning to sting like the devil__…__and so although hunger was a definite need__…__it was one that could wait..._

"No! That's not what I meant at all!" D'artagnan whined, sagging on the spot under the mental capacity of it all, a look of physical pain overcoming his sad expression.

"Then what _did _you mean?" Aramis argued, staring down at his colleague intently, eyes flickering up to the smug smile of Porthos and shooting daggers.

If looks could kill.

As D'artagnan deflated somewhat, Aramis slid about the side of his friend and stormed past them both.

_He would not be humiliated again! According to last night, he__'__d had his ass handed to him by his best friend! His brother! _

_Sure, it had been an accident -one that hadn__'__t needed to have happened- but an accident none-the-less. _

_But accidents__'__ hurt__…_

_His head hurt, his bones ached, his jaw had decided to keep up a joyous twinge of pain for the last hour or so__…__and yet, here was Porthos__'__, shoving him around like a weakling, prodding him incessantly, leading him into posts, laughing at his misfortunes with food__…__unable to take friendly banter -because he was such a big child!_

Aramis' narrowed his eyes and bit the inside of his lip. _He__'__d wipe that smirk off his face! They would have a rematch!__…__Just not today__…__not right now. _

"Aramis! Where are you going?" D'artagnan called, voice strained with both frustration and worry.

"Out!" Aramis replied gruffly, not bothering to turn around as he stormed through the doors and back out into the streaming sunlight -a hand quickly shielding his eyes from the intensity of it all.

_He would let them stew on their misgivings, let Porthos__'__ feel guilty about knocking him senseless__…__about gaining his forgiveness and then winding him up._

Scuffing his boot into the loose straw of the open garrison courtyard, Aramis set his eyes upon the stables and set off almost immediately. _If anything could clear his mind, it would be a ride through the country._

_Treville wouldn__'__t need them today__…__ he had departed for official business by the kings__'__ side. There was nothing to do but relax__…__or brood._

And so, with a saddled mount and packed gear, Aramis quickly lead his mare out from the stables and swung himself up and on -blinking out the colours that spun past his eyes nauseatingly before balancing properly atop his friendly beast.

Nothing would deter him now. He was a man on a mission for peace and quiet… and perhaps an apple tree to satisfy his mare.

Nicking his boots softly into the sides of her flank, Aramis' mare set off at a brisk pace, quickly leaving the courtyard of the garrison behind in a puff of kicked up dust and dirt.

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**Please leave a review and let me know what you think! :)**


	6. Notice

Hi guys! This is **not **a notice for abandonment, rather, an explanation of sorts -I did mention in my other ongoing story (Poisoned) a while ago that I would have to finish with it first before I return to this other story. This is mainly because, despite my attempt to multi-task these stories, I simply do not have enough time or mental capacity to keep up with them both -without confusing their plot lines or making them sloppy. I hope you guys are okay with this, I didn't mean for it to turn out this way and im sorry for any aggravation or hopelessness i may have caused!

PM me if you have questions about this, my other story or maybe even prompt ideas. I'll be back to this one within the month, so bare with me please!

P.S, I changed my account name (I **AM** Boooyakasha)…I explained it in my profile, so don't be alarmed by story updates or seemingly random PMs from this 'stranger.'

Have a great day! I love you all immensely! :)


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